


Friday Night Is Date Night

by SparklyFiend



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 19:16:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1358815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparklyFiend/pseuds/SparklyFiend





	Friday Night Is Date Night

**Title:** Friday Night Is Date Night  
 **Pairing:** Steve/Bucky (or Sucky - anon, ILUSOHARD.)  
 **Rating:** PG  
 **Word count:** 1000 on the dot.

Written for [this prompt](http://capkink.livejournal.com/1973.html?thread=1800117#t1800117) at [](http://capkink.livejournal.com/profile)[**capkink**](http://capkink.livejournal.com/) : Steve and Bucky go on a date, but they have to pretend like they're just friends, since it's the 1940's and they can't afford to be 'out.' Crossposted to my personal LJ, [](http://capkink.livejournal.com/profile)[**capkink**](http://capkink.livejournal.com/) and [](http://wingheads.livejournal.com/profile)[**wingheads**](http://wingheads.livejournal.com/). I am made of spam, sorry.

 

Steve and Bucky have longstanding plans on Thursdays that have no name and are most certainly not dates, because Friday night is date night, and Thursdays are just Thursdays.

They go for pizza on Thursday nights, because Antonio’s has the best pizza in Brooklyn and because Frank used to sneak them slices when they were a little short on money and it was a choice between eating or rent. They slide comfortably into the corner booth and the scent of the cheese and pepperoni has Steve’s stomach growling before he’s even fully settled against the leather.

“Anyone would think we didn’t feed you or something,” Bucky jokes, sharp fingers poking into his ribs.

“You make me sound like a pet,” Steve grouses, and it’s comfortable, familiar as Bucky’s eyes sparkle. “Runt of the litter, maybe?” he suggests, lips quirked in a smile.

“Runt of the litter’s always got the best personality,” Bucky shrugs. “Never liked overgrown mutts,” he adds, shoots Steve that smile that’s reserved just for him.

“Nor do I,” Steve agrees, “but I’m stuck with you nonetheless.”

Bucky pulls him into a headlock, and if his fingers drag gently across Steve’s neck, then nobody seems to notice.

“Bucky, quit picking on the kid and come get your pizza!” Frank’s voice cuts through the diner, and Bucky grins as he gets out of the booth. Steve smiles down at the tabletop and rubs at the back of his neck as Bucky comes back with two cokes and two slices of steaming hot double-pepperoni balancing precariously on his arm.

“You break the plates, I break your arm,” Frank calls warningly, before settling back behind the bar, flicking the newspaper open to the funnies.

“I’m sure I could afford the fifty cents they cost you,” Bucky replies flippantly, before taking a massive bite of pizza, strings of mozzarella stretching in long ribbons until they snap and land on his chin.

“Now I know Sister Mary Temperance taught you better manners than that,” Steve smirks, taking a bite of his own pizza and savouring the warmth in his mouth.

Bucky gives him a big toothy grin, all cheese and tomato sauce and Steve groans, pushing at the older man’s face.

“You’re putting me off my pizza, Buck,” he complains, and Bucky just chuckles, taking a swig from his soda.

“Mark it down to yet another thing Mother Superior failed to teach me,” he shrugs, his foot brushing softly against Steve’s ankle.

“That’s a hell of a list, I’m thinking we’ll run out of trees,” Steve smirks, and shoves his own slice of pizza in Bucky’s mouth when the other man opens his mouth to reply. He steals Bucky’s slice for himself, and manages to swallow and chuckle at the same time.

Bucky steals the crust from Steve's plate in petty vengeance, and Steve finishes Bucky's coke.

"If I pay for dinner, you're getting the popcorn," Bucky tells Steve, as he settles up at the counter.

"You seeing the new Shirley Temple?" Frank asks as the cash register jingles.

"Lord, no," Steve snorts, not even bothering to suppress the shudder of disgust.

"I hate that kid," Bucky chips in. "Nobody's got a right to be that cheerful, it's unnatural. All smiles and curls, and the Good Ship Lollipop is enough to rot your goddamn teeth."

“Well, _I_ think she's adorable, anyways. You two wouldn’t know sweet if it kicked you in the shin,” Frank huffs, a grin still playing around the corners of his mouth.

"Sweet I like,” Steve shrugs, “she’s enough to give me a stomach ache," he finishes, pulling a face.

"See?" Bucky laughs. "Too sweet for Steve, who'd take his coffee with more sugar than water if he could."

"She's still America's sweetheart," Frank points out. "Be careful who you say that around, boys."

"Yeah," Steve calls over his shoulder as they walk out onto the street, "but America's got terrible taste in idols, Frankie."

They head down to the Aztec, grab the last two seats to the new Errol Flynn flick, and Steve buys them the largest bucket of popcorn he can. They sit angled towards each other, popcorn resting in the space between their seats, knees holding it in place.

Their fingers might brush together as they reach for the popcorn, slick with butter. They might curl together for a couple of seconds in the shadows, but the lights are low and nobody casts an eye towards another two guys sitting on the balcony.

Steve tries to pay attention to the movie, to Robin Hood stealing from the rich and giving to the poor.

"I figure Frankie's the new Robin Hood," Bucky whispers, breath hot against the shell of Steve's ear. "Giving pizza to the rag-tag kids of Our Lady Of Sorrows Home For The Less Fortunate, and always out to save the day."

"Don't reckon so," Steve returns, nudging Bucky with his ankle. "Don't think Frank's got the legs for tights myself."

"You've been looking?" Bucky teases, and they both burst into giggles that they try and smother when they get hushed by a woman two rows back.

By the time the film ends (and honestly, for the last half hour they’d be whispering to each other and flicking popcorn kernels from the bucket into each other’s hands anyway), they’re both smirking, and there’s no need for Bucky to ask Steve back for coffee.

Thursday nights aren’t anything, they’re not dates because Friday night is Date Night (capital letters very much implied.) Thursday nights are just BuckyandSteve, SteveandBucky: so, there’s not coffee, no nervous chat before kissing on the front steps. And because Thursday nights aren’t dates, there’s no rule to say that Bucky can’t press Steve up against the front door as soon as they get inside and kiss him until neither of them have any breath left.

Thursday nights are just Thursdays, and Friday night is Date Night.

Date Night, Steve thinks fleetingly as Bucky’s fingers slide his suspenders down over his shoulders, is overrated.


End file.
